


Quartet

by snarechan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Comedy, Friendship, Gap Filler, Gen, Male Friendship, Missing Scene, Reconciliation, Singing, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: There's a hole in Noctis' chest that lingers and desperately wants to be filled, even after the events at the Fodina Caestino Mines.





	Quartet

**Author's Note:**

> I think, like quite a few people, I was left rather dissatisfied with how matters were 'settled' after chapter ten of the game. It felt rather forced and rushed along, without ever really resolving anything. This story doesn't settle everything, either, but that would involve more talent and dedication than I'm willing to expand right now. So hopefully this meager offering will at least help take the harsh sting out of what was actually provided in-game.
> 
> Credit goes to Glyphenthusiast for cheering me on and editing this puppy. I can't thank them enough for the confidence boost! And, of course, musical talents and inspiration comes direct from Gloria Gaynor, the songstress who made _I Will Survive_ the mantra of an era.

Noctis entered the sleeper car and staked his claim on the bottom bunk by collapsing face first on it. He was drained after the excursion through the Fodina Caestino Mines, not to mention feeling sweaty and smelly due to nearly getting eaten. His hand flopped beside his head on the coverlet and he noticed something glinting in a portion of his glove. He ripped it free of the leather to discover the Malboro had left a parting gift in the form of a fanged tooth.

The next person to enter was Ignis, who took his time maneuvering the tight quarters. His walking stick slid across the floor and tapped carefully in front of his path. Prompto accompanied him. It was obvious he wanted to help, but Prompto refrained from interfering until Ignis felt for the mattress and eased onto the bed opposite of Noctis. He rested a hand on the top of Ignis’ head and prevented him from smacking into the support rail.

It’d taken a lot out of Ignis to go exploring with them; making it a wonder he didn’t collapse in a similar fashion. Noctis couldn’t imagine how much vigilance and effort it took him to navigate the uneven terrain, but the strain was apparent. He wasn’t sure if it had been the wisest decision to permit Ignis along, but he’d survived the events of Altissia and now he’d survived the swamp with its plant monsters. His advisor could survive anything, evidently.

Noctis ignored the persistent voice that wanted to convince him that everyone he cared for or cared for him got hurt ( _or worse_ ).

Once Ignis was settled in place, Prompto hoisted his body onto the section above. He divested himself of his wettest layers of clothes and hung them over the footboard. This close, Noctis saw that his eyes were red-rimmed around the edges. His friend never liked it when people fought, and this had been some of the longest, most extreme cases shared amongst them. Noctis didn’t much care for expanding energy on arguing, but he’d worn raw under the circumstances.

Gladiolus stood in the doorway, unmoving. Noctis turned his head, face squished into the mattress, to warily eye him past the fringes of his bangs. Despite earlier confrontations, tensions hadn’t abated completely. The honest, but direct, way everyone had opened up had left their boundaries out of whack. Adjustments were still in the process of being made. It was _awkward_. Something similar must have affected Gladiolus because he seemed unsure of his welcome. Or how welcoming he felt like acting.

The guardsman finally slammed the door shut, as if daring anyone to comment. He guessed Gladiolus wasn’t sleeping in the passenger cars or patrolling the hallway, or whatever he’d done to avoid them prior. Noctis just turned and scrunched his face into the pillow while Gladiolus milled about. All of them were exhausted, but unwilling to go to sleep.

The creaking of the moving train as it barreled down the tracks was loud in the ensuing silence. A twinge started somewhere in Noctis’ chest as the uneasy atmosphere carried on. Prompto, also distressed by the quiet, shifted so both legs slid over the side of his bunk to dangle there. He coughed into a fist, drawing Noctis’ attention from the stark whiteness of his pillowcase.

“So. That was pretty sweet, earlier. How we teamed up and destroyed that Malboro together? Just like old times.” Prompto glanced between all three of them, gaze eager and tentatively hopeful. No one else contributed, though. Gladiolus wordlessly took up residence by the window, beside the far bunk bed. Ignis draped an arm across his eyes as he laid down. Prompto’s shoulders drooped, the gesture making Noctis feel worse about their situation and he sunk deeper into the covers.

“Yeah, I mean, it got pretty dicey back there. _At first I was afraid._ ” Prompto paused meaningfully. “ _I was petrified._ ”

Gladiolus was leaning against a post on Prompto’s and Ignis’ bunk, his arms crossed. He twisted in place and glowered over his shoulder at Prompto. Noctis wasn’t sure he was up to his friend’s antics, either, but he was still miffed with Gladiolus’ continued distance.

The gap hurt, although Noctis understood part of it; he wouldn’t want to put up with himself in Gladiolus’ situation, either.

The glare did nothing except egg Prompto on, instead. Fingers splayed on his chest as he said, with increased flare to his tone, “But what? _Did you think I’d crumble? Did you think I’d lay down and die?_ ”

Prompto waited again. His expression started to waver, eyes becoming puffier, until from below him came a soft crooning, “ _Oh, no, not I. I will survive. Oh, as long as I know how to love I know I’ll stay alive._ ”

Slowly, Noctis raised his head. Ignis hadn’t shifted his arm, but his lips moved. He was definitely the person singing. His voice, tender like a lullaby, kept expressing the song lyrics.

Prompto offered a watery smile, although Ignis couldn’t see it. He joined him in the middle of the tune with renewed determination. When he looked expectantly at Gladiolus, the other man shook his head and shut him down. “I’m not doing whatever this is.”

Fed up, Prompto reared back his foot and kicked Gladiolus with the sole of his boot. He couldn’t _really_ hurt him, even if he’d wanted, but the indignant expression the guardsman wore as he stared at the shoeprint on the sleeve of his tanktop proved the point was made.

“ _And I’ll survive! I will survive, hey, hey!_ Come on, Gladio!”

“I said no.” Prompto went to kick him again, but Gladiolus snatched him by the ankle before he could. “Knock it off! What is _with you?_ And stop corrupting Iggy.”

“ _It took all the strength_ – dude, don’t be a wuss – _not to fall apart_ – even Igster is cool enough to try!”  Prompto persisted, alternating between choruses with Ignis and goading Gladiolus.

The age-old dare did the trick. Gladiolus scowled all of two more seconds before he followed their example. His voice was _deep_ , resonating in Noctis’ bones, whereas Prompto’s and Ignis’ words hung in the air. Their voices surrounded him and filled him and Noctis didn’t realize he was pushing himself up to join them. His throat swelled as he sang, “ _I spent, oh, so many nights just feeling sorry for myself. I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high_ —”

“Oi, be quiet!” Behind Noctis, pounding on the wall made him flinch, and he startled around as if he could see the perpetrator in the other room. Everyone else’s singing tapered off in varying degrees of finality. “Some o’ us are tryin’ to catch some shut eye o’re!”

“Hey! We’re bonding here,” Gladiolus protested in return. In a single stride he was across the room and banging on the wall. Noctis worried that his fist was going to punch through, but it only rattled the divider.

Whoever was in the adjoining room made unseemly connotations about their arrangements. Gladiolus told them where they could shove it. _Forcibly_. Prompto snorted, covering his mouth with both hands to stifle his laughter. Gladiolus turned on him, but in abashment rather than anger. He asked, “Oops. Too far?”

“Nah. It just hit me that you actually have an okay singing voice. Who knew?” the gunner asked.

“Indeed. You’ve quite the talent. Perhaps you missed your true calling?” Ignis noted.

“Blame Iris and her damned karaoke,” Gladiolus grumbled.

“No way!” Noctis and Prompto exclaimed in tandem. Prompto continued with, “This whole time you’ve been into that?”

Overtop his speaking, Noctis demanded, “We could have dragged you to a session before now?”

“How long has this been going on, exactly?” Prompto asked next.

“I am not interested in partying with you off-tempo dorks,” Gladiolus said.

“Are you kidding me? For _years_ ,” Prompto said, putting emphasis on the last word like he spoke of eons and not under a decade, “we could have been getting drunk together, jamming to pop music. Think of the wasted nights, Gladio!”

“I _would_ have to be intoxicated to even consider this.”

The teasing was light, natural, and imbued Noctis with a sort of calm he’d been missing. It was like a switch had been flipped. There was still a throb in his chest, one that ached, but for the first instance in a long time it felt ready to start healing.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [writing blog on Tumblr](http://snaurus.tumblr.com/) for more content!


End file.
